


September Tides

by Zoe_Grimm



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Celebrations, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe_Grimm/pseuds/Zoe_Grimm
Summary: A night in September 1945 between the end of a war and the beginning of something else.
Relationships: Carol Aird & Abby Gerhard, Carol Aird/Abby Gerhard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	September Tides

It was not a safe world.

Lord, how Carol knew... it was not a safe world. 

It had not protected her from her father's stern words, or from Harge's insistent if - at first - charming advances, and it had not protected itself.

The echoes of the second World War still rang fresh in the ears of soldiers who returned, stepping cautiously off the train, not yet knowing if they had really been delivered. 

She was supposed to have everything in life. She had a husband, they had a very lovely house, no children yet but they were trying. He brought her flowers back then, every now and then. They were just ordinary people. 

But it wasn't for her.

The last days of the war were the first of September, in 1945. Carol had no idea yet how her life might change in the early fifties. She was a wife, first and foremost, even at the party that celebrated the end of the war. She almost hoped she would never have to be a mother, too. Something must remain of herself. Surely, she could not be entirely invisible in history - effaced by her husband's name and actions. If only _one_ person could remember her for herself...

And there that person was, striding towards Carol with a familiar energy, two martinis in hand, cigarettes tucked a little untidily into the pocket of her skirt. 

"If your brother sees you...", Carol admonished lightly, slipping out two of the cigarettes and hiding the pack deeper in Abby's pocket.

"Now are you sure", Abby began teasing, "that you never want to be a mother, because I think you'd be quite a natural at it -"

"Everyone's here", Carol warned, only for Abby to counter "Everyone's busy. Face it, dear. It's a _men's victory._ It's a men's victory party. All those soldiers. The politicians. Oh, the grandeur, the sacrifice! Never mind the sacrifice of all the mothers who lost their sons. Of nurses. Of women. Of homemakers raising campaigns to support the war effort. Of wives. No. Not a word. They don't see us. And if they do, we are decor. So light up, sister", she finished flippantly, nudging Carol's shoulder and moving her cigarette in the direction of Carol's lighter. Carol obliged her, unable to hide the hint of amusement that Abby's words had solicited. If only it hadn't been overshadowed by her earlier emotions. Exhaling smoke, she said quietly:

"I don't want to be forgotten."

"You won't be", Abby assured her, and the look they shared was soothing. It told Carol that Abby knew her. Perhaps better than anyone. As well as Carol had always known Abby.

"I'll remember you too."

The other woman looked away, touched, emotional, but Abby didn't want to be emotional. Invisible or not, she had come here to celebrate. And there was no one like a best friend to do it with. She looked back at Carol and raised her glass.

"To memory", she proposed, and they clinked their glasses together. 

There was music playing in the background, and they gradually began to sway slightly where they stood, especially since there always seemed to be a waiter around with just one last martini. 

They were tipsy by the end of it, and the men with all their important talks of politics and duty faded in the background. All the bravado of those who had never seen the war and now congratulated themselves on winning it would have made them dizzy, anyways. 

As it was, Carol found herself swaying in the corner, unseen, for her husband was among the busy ones, with Abby's hands on her hips. The slightly shorter brunette was looking up at her with a mysterious shimmer to her eyes, and when she reached up to close the distance between them, Carol made no move to stop her. She only turned her head to the side and whispered in Abby's ear "not here". 

They were out before they knew it, Carol having told Harge that she was getting a severe headache and that Abby would take her home. He had nodded, kissed her on the cheek and waved her off, already back in conversation. How different that kiss had felt from the one Abby had given her minutes before. One so careless, and one so tender. 

They shivered in the evening air which held a characteristic September chill, wrapped in their shawls over their dresses as the two women got into Abby's car and drove home. Carol quietly led her up the stairs as they got there. She had no qualms about sinning in the sacred space of her marriage. It was a loveless marriage at best, anyways.

So she brushed a strand of hair back from Abby's face, and when her friend leaned in to kiss her then, she met her tenderly at the top of the stairs. Almost in the doorway of the bedroom, they moved together. Familiar hands gentle and exploring, they both knew the way of a woman's body. It was a quiet celebration, the way they touched each other now. None of the bravado the men showed at the party. They acknowledged past loss along with the scars, Abby tracing the scar on Carol's thigh she got five years back when they climbed a fence together, Carol kissing the bruises on Abby's ribs she had from misjudging a door frame a few days earlier. They shared everything. Naked before each other in body and mind, past and present, gentle with skin and secrets. 

Carol caressed one of Abby's nipples and kissed her way downwards from her ribs, across a taut belly and up her shapely thighs. She loved the way Abby's full mouth opened as her eyes fluttered closed when she first tasted her. She loved the way Abby's hands found her blond hair and her shoulder, drawing her in closer. She loved the little shudders she elicited in the late September night in the dark house. 

She never had to love Abby. Nor did Abby have to love her. But as it was over, there lay two women with a love for other women and rapidly beating hearts, celebrating what it meant to be alive.


End file.
